


wherever you go now

by neyvenger (jjjat3am)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, transfer rumours angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 20:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11297934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/pseuds/neyvenger
Summary: The off-season lies heavy between them.





	wherever you go now

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Football Prompts Set](https://footballprompts.tumblr.com/post/161403531255/june-prompt-set-rules-fanworks-should-be-posted), I used the word prompt:  
>  _“The lights go out,_  
>  it’s just the three of us,  
> you and me, and all the stuff  
> we’re so scared of.”  
> Bruce Springsteen, Tunnel of Love
> 
> Big thanks to Laura for making sure all the Dortmund details were right and for encouraging me.

 

 

Marco always sleeps badly in the summers. The apartment is air conditioned, but it’s like he feels the muggy overheated air from outside on his skin, and he tosses and turns, staring at the silhouette of Auba’s back in the darkness.

 

The off-season lies heavy between them.

 

There’s a moment where rumors outgrow themselves and become fear. There’s a moment where Auba reaches out for him in his sleep, and Marco turns away, curling up on the edge of the bed.

 

 

*

 

 

It doesn’t seem like Auba notices anything is different. But then again, maybe there isn’t. In the morning, Marco’s shadows evaporate under the strength of the sun, and he turns over to kiss Auba through the morning breath, slowly, like they’ve got forever on their side.

 

Seeing Auba’s stuff mixed with his own - a leopard print jacket on the armchair, several pairs of sneakers steadily edging his own from the shoe rack - it just doesn’t seem likely. It doesn’t seem possible.

 

Auba smiles at him across the breakfast nook and he says ‘you’re a dumbass’ instead of ‘we need to talk’.

 

 

*

 

 

Marco’s never met Auba’s grandfather. It grates at him, like the thought of all the pieces of Auba he’s never going to have.

 

He thinks maybe if he could talk to him, he would be able to convince him into another dream for his grandson. Maybe he could explain to him that fame and glory can be attained with loyalty. But even he isn’t that naive.

 

 

*

 

 

Marco wonders how Auba will tell him.

 

Will he sit him down and explain, or will Marco have to learn it over the radio, and come back to an empty apartment?

 

He’s rarely seen Auba sad. He’s grateful for that.

 

Will Auba be sad, leaving?

 

Mats had been genially jovial even with his suitcases all packed up behind him. When he left, Marco had clenched his hands so hard they bled, and Auba had washed them for him, applying antibiotic cream. He didn’t complain when Marco leaned over and kissed him, a little too hard, a little too biting. Desperate.

 

He just kissed back.

 

 

*

 

 

The possibility is like an elephant in the room, and Marco feels its presence grow bigger and bigger as they edge closer to the start of the season.

 

He starts compiling a list in his head, of all the things Auba will have to pack, wonders if he has enough suitcases leftover from when he came to Dortmund from France.

 

If he goes, Marco wants to pack the whole city of Dortmund to take away with him.

 

He has strange dreams, of pouring the Phoenix-See into plane safe containers and placing a miniature Borsigplatz in the trunk of the suitcase, of folding up the Westfalenstadium and tucking it into one of the side pockets where it won’t get creased.

 

And he dreams of curling himself up in the middle of it, a giant in the middle of the streets, the spiky peaks of the miniature buildings digging into his body as the suitcase is zipped closed, leaving him in darkness.

 

Marco could never leave Dortmund, but he also can’t leave -

 

\-  he wakes up in cold sweat.

 

 

*

 

 

Marco starts hiding Auba’s things.

 

It’s not even a conscious thing at first. He doesn’t return a training jacket with Auba’s number on it. He leaves a pair of Auba’s sunglasses at his family home after he and Auba go to dinner with Marco’s parents.

 

He hides Auba’s favorite pair of shoes in the very back of the closet, several layers of promo materials between them and the door. He carries around the key to the Lambo for a whole day before he begins to feel ashamed and puts it back with the other keys.

 

He puts on Auba’s shirts in their bedroom while Auba is away with friends, runs his hands over the material, full of nervous energy. When he’s reasonably sure they smell like him, like his cologne, he takes them off and folds them back up.

 

He insists they take pictures, arranging their bodies almost obsessively on the bed until even Auba’s patience runs out and he refuses to comment on which filter to use.

 

Marco puts pieces of himself in everything Auba owns so that he’ll never be able to leave Marco behind completely. So that wherever he goes, Marco will haunt him.

 

 

*

 

 

It’s unclear if Auba realizes what he’s doing, or what he’s thinking about. He just keeps smiling at Marco, always fond. And when he touches him, soft and familiar, his fingers dancing over Marco’s ribs, he lets himself forget, just for that moment.

 

 

*

 

 

Auba hasn’t said ‘I love you’. He hasn’t promised to never leave. But that’s okay. Marco hasn’t either.

 

He always thought it was sort of implied though.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Note that Auba's grandfather's dream was that Auba would go on to play for Real Madrid. Phoenix-See is what the locals call the river that flows through the city, and Borsigplatz is a square in the northern part of Dortmund, where BVB was founded.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](https://neyvenger.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> Please let him stay.


End file.
